When I arrived at the hospital ER last Saturday evening, I was quickly pushed in a wheel chair into a tiny room. I couldn’t see a lot of the area, but I could hear several things.
Things were very active in the ER. Folks popped in and out — each on a mission each handling it with competent confidence. From time to time, a child would cry next door.
Shortly after midnight, I was moved to a room on the third floor. After a series of interactions with hospital staff, the night settled into a pattern.
It was quiet. No, it wasn’t — not really. There was always the low sound of moving air circulating through the duct work. The seconds were marked — each one by a clack from the clock on the wall. In the stillness of the night it seemed loud. (It wasn’t.) About every 72 seconds (yes, I timed it), the machine that regulated the flow on my IV would cycle (Ahhruuum). Those three sounds were constant with each following its own pattern.
Periodically beeps would come from a patient monitor in the adjacent room. Occasionally warning alarms would sound at the nurses station just across the hallway from my open door.
Around 2 AM I heard violent coughing from somewhere down the hall. This was followed by hurried, but quiet, footsteps. Then subdued voices speaking urgently. Nothing more heard from there.
At 2:30 AM I was tired of just laying in bed so I stood beside the bed. Then I heard that warning alarm from the nurses station. Immediately [almost] I had company. It was the nurse wanting to know if I was okay. For some reason, it was my monitor that set off the alarm.
Every couple of hours folks would come to read vital signs or to draw blood. So, even though I didn’t sleep for more than a minute or two at a time, I was not bored with all that company.
One of the staffers that visited me that night told me a story. She had two brothers. When they were children, the boys discovered that they could save a walk to the bathroom if they peed through the screen at the open window in their bedroom. Their dog must have thought it was a good idea, because he started doing it too. The mother wondered why there was a yellow streak on the side of the house. Probably more information that you needed.
Did I miss the post on why you were at the hospital? I must have because I had no idea. So, what happened?
Glad you're doing OK!
LOL @ the yellow streak.
It's amazing what you can learn in a hospital just by listening. Glad you are feeling better!
Oh, you little boys and your convenient pee-ers!
I would probably time everything too. Hospitals are no fun.
Hospitals are really not very restful places. Way too many people and activities going on.
I've never had the luck to be in the quiet when I'm in the hospital. Next time, I'm going to YOUR hospital. And you get great stories there too!
i am happy to hear that you are feeling better. you must take care of yourself. and yes, that was a little too much information…lol!
hugz!
Chuck, I obviously hadn't visited in a while, I didn't know you were in the hospital. I hope you are doing okay now and on the mend. Please take care of yourself.
Laane, I know they do their best, but something is always happening. I am doing fine. In fact, I've felt very good since returning home and getting about 14 hours sleep.
Vanilla, Yup. Boys.
Neighbor and friend, Connie, sent this comment:
Your Thursday thoughts made me think of when my Dad was in Thornapple Manor. He got really upset with his roommate (2 to a room) whose bed was right beside the sink. He would pee in the sink instead of going across the hall to the bathroom which upset my Dad a lot because he had to wash his hands, shave and brush his teeth in that sink. The nurses would get after the roommate, but he continued to do it. After much complaining from my Dad finally the roommate was moved to another room.
Boys.
I remember that so well. And when you're exhausted and fall asleep when it's nearly morning one of the hospital cars drives in the cars with laundry and breakfast.
I never found rest in a hospital.
I hope all is well now or will be well soon.